Margot Harris Mystery Series : Box Set 2 (Margot Harris Mystery Series Two - Twisted)

by Nora Kane

  Instead of still shots of dead men, the picture changed to the outside of a modest home. Margot assumed this was where the crime took place. The camera panned to a blurry shot of a man in a hoodie walking away from the house.

  “This man was caught on a neighbor’s security camera leaving the scene just after the crime took place. While the photo does not identify the suspect, it is believed by my sources to be Malachi ‘Mal’ Flynn.”

  The screen changed to Mal’s mugshot from when he was arrested before they tossed him out of the police.

  “Mal Flynn is known to be an enforcer for several stateside organized crime figures, including Harry Lee. He is also a known associate of Viuda Negra. While she was not seen leaving the house, the nature of the crime suggests multiple assailants and one of the murder weapons is believed to be a .40 pistol, which is Viuda Negra’s signature weapon.”

  The show moved on to covering the Masterson Hot Tub Massacre. Cassie had called the piece an update but she didn’t really have new information. It appeared to be an excuse to show the grisly crime scene photos Cassie had managed to acquire. Everyone aside from Cassie and her viewers considered that to be a closed case. She didn’t flat out say it, but she heavily implied Margot’s former client and the wife of one of the victims, Phoebe Masterson, was guilty of the crime. While there were certainly questions about what exactly took place, Detective Anderson putting his own gun under his chin and pulling the trigger ensured those questions would likely forever remain unanswered.

  “Is there more about Mal?”

  “No, that’s the only part where she mentions you.”

  Margot turned it off and said, “Except she doesn’t mention me. She babbles on about Viuda Negra, but as we all know, I’m not her. Fact is, she probably doesn’t exist.”

  “She said you were Viuda Negra on multiple occasions.”

  “Yeah, but like I said, we have an arrangement. She came closer to the line than I would have liked, but she kept it.”

  “You sure? Anyone who’s watched the show before will connect your name with Viuda Negra and then there’s the part about Mal, who is also connected to you. She may not have mentioned you by name, but she didn’t have to,” Ames replied.

  “Yeah, but that’s a stern-talking-to type offense, not a shoot-her-in-the-face type offense.”

  “We agree. We’re just warning you that someone won’t.”

  Margot nodded. “Thanks for the heads up then.”

  “No problem,” Radcliff replied.

  “You know, she was having problems with her old boyfriend.”

  “First place we went. He was working,” Radcliff told her.

  “We should get going,” Ames said.

  “Yeah, you should. I’ve still got a client waiting.”

  “Maybe we solve this thing before they get around to coming after you?” Radcliff ventured.

  “That’d be nice. Dinner at your place tonight?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Chapter 2

  Once she had things squared away with Mrs. Dithers, Margot decided the first course of action was to give Cassie the talking to she felt she deserved. Her call went straight to voicemail, so after leaving a short message, Margot went ahead and sent a text saying simply:

  We need to talk.

  Almost right away she got a reply:

  1516 Broken Arrow.

  Margot wrote back:

  What about 1516 Broken Arrow?

  Cassie simply replied again:

  1516 Broken Arrow.

  Margot plugged 1516 Broken Arrow into her map app on her phone and found it was a local address. If she remembered the area correctly, it was a nice neighborhood, upper-middle-class, near the new golf course. Mr. Dithers almost always came home on time on Tuesdays, so Margot wasn’t staking him out until tomorrow. She had no reason not to go up to 1516 Broken Arrow to check it out.

  She texted Cassie again asking:

  Can you tell me what’s at 1516 Broken Arrow?

  Cassie did not respond.

  The whole thing felt weird, though Margot didn’t know Cassie well enough to know if being vague was standard operating procedure. She made sure she had her gun and an extra magazine as well her mace and the telescoping baton in her purse before she headed out.

  Her memory proved correct: Broken Arrow the street shared the same name as the golf club. Both the club and the neighborhood were well out of Margot’s price range. Not that it mattered; she was happy with her apartment just off the beach, which more and more was just somewhere she stored her stuff since she was always at Detective Radcliff’s place.

  If she actually golfed, she might feel different, but Margot had never played golf in her life. She’d gotten into martial arts at a young age, and it was the only sport for her for a long time. She’d fought professionally briefly where she learned there was no shortage of stronger, faster, and meaner fighters out there. She might have been able to stay in the game longer than she did, filling out undercards when needed and being a beatable opponent for up-and-coming contenders, but it was clear she’d never reach the championship level, meaning she’d be making a career of taking a beating and wouldn’t ever get rich doing it. The decision to give it up and pursue a career in law enforcement was an easy one.

  For a while, that had seemed more promising—until she’d messed it up with her ultimately misplaced loyalty to Mal.

  Margot slowed as she went past 1516 Broken Arrow. It was a two-story house like most of them on this block, which like most newer neighborhoods, only featured three floor plans. 1516 seemed the middle plan; unlike plan number one, it had two floors, but it didn’t have the square footage as plan number three.

  There wasn’t much to see from the outside. Margot circled the block one more time and then parked her car in the driveway. As far as she could tell, she was the only one on the street. She unzipped her purse so she could have quick access to the weapons inside and then slung it over her shoulder.

  Margot saw the hole in the door about where the peephole should be as she got closer. She drew her gun, a short-barreled S&W .40, and approached carefully.

  The hole could mean a lot of things, but it sure looked like the right size for a bullet. Margot knocked with the side of her fist and called out, “Is anyone home?”

  No one answered.

  She went back to her car and got a pair of surgical gloves out of the box she kept in the trunk. If this was what she thought it was, she didn’t want to leave her fingerprints on the door. If someone wanted to jam her up with a murder charge, she didn’t want to make it easy for them.

  Margot tried the handle and found it was unlocked. She pushed the door open, hoping her assessment of the situation was wrong.

  It wasn’t.

  Not completely, anyway. She expected to see Cassie Cole dead on the floor, but even though there wasn’t much of a face left, this was clearly a guy. It was hard to tell without the face, but it seemed to Margot she was looking at Cassie's ex-boyfriend Trevor.

  Margot was getting ready to step out and call the police when she noticed a partial shoe print on the tile floor. It looked like someone had stepped in the blood and then tracked it through the house. She kept her gun in her hand and followed the tracks.

  They faded away pretty quickly. All of them were partials, but the tread seemed to be a running shoe. She put her foot next to the most complete print. The size indicated a bigger foot than hers but not so big it couldn’t be a female’s. Margot would bet they were from a woman’s shoe. It could mean either Cassie or another woman in the house had found the body and stepped in the blood, but to Margot, it felt like the killer had come through the unlocked door to check for witnesses or to take out another target.

  The tracks led to a sliding glass door that connected to the back yard. The door was open. Margot went outside and checked the well-manicured backyard. The tracks disappeared in the grass and there weren’t any dead bodies back there.

  Margot didn�
�t know anything about Gloria Romero, other than how she had died, but she thought it was reasonable to assume the only common denominator between her and Trevor was Cassandra Cole. It made Margot think the intended victim in both shootings probably was Cassie. She wondered if her body was in another part of the house.

  She texted Cassie:

  I need to know where you are, and if you’re okay.

  A buzzing sound coming from the kitchen got Margot’s attention, and she walked over to find a phone on the counter. On the screen was an alert showing the phone had just received a message. Margot looked closer and saw her number and her message displayed.

  Since Cassie was of the generation that kept their phones close by at all times, Margot’s concern for Cassie’s well-being intensified.

  She went through the house slowly, the way she was trained to do as a police officer, with her gun out in front of her. Margot went through the entire house. She found a suitcase open in one of the spare bedrooms full of clothes that Margot figured were probably Cassie’s. She didn’t find another body.

  Search complete, Margot went back to the front of the house and called the police.

  Chapter 3

  “I’ll be honest with you, Margot, I didn’t plan to see you again today,” Ames told her as she sat in the back of their car. The crime scene techs had arrived and there wasn’t much for the three of them to do while they did their job.

  “I guess I did but not like this,” Radcliff added.

  “I’m glad to see you guys still have this one,” Margot replied.

  Ames shook his head. “Yeah, well, the more you’re involved, the less likely we’ll stay on it.”

  “Sorry.”

  Ames shrugged. “It’s not like there won’t be another murder. Hell, maybe the one we get switched to will be easy to solve. We’ve got a whole hell of a lot of nothing on this one.”

  “Yeah, well, even though it makes it easier for somebody to put this on me, it looks like the theory Gloria took a bullet meant for Cassie might have something to it,” Margot replied.

  “Trevor didn’t look like Cassie,” Ames said.

  “And someone took a shot at him not too long ago,” Radcliff added.

  “I know, I was there. Conventional wisdom says they took a shot at me instead of him.”

  “You have been known to be a bullet magnet, but maybe we need to re-think that one,” Ames said.

  Ames’ phone buzzed. He did a lot of listening and then said, “The house belongs to Trevor’s parents. They’re retired and spend a lot of time out of town. They have no idea what he was doing there this afternoon.”

  “Was he hiding Cassie up here?” Radcliff asked. “If she knew what happened to Gloria, she might have decided to lay low.”

  “Makes some sense. Either way, we need to find—” Ames said.

  “—Finding people is kind of my thing,” Margot interjected. “If they don’t arrest me, do you want me to look for her?”

  “Thanks, but we don’t make enough to hire you,” Radcliff quipped.

  “He's right. I’m putting out an APB right now,” Ames agreed, as he contacted dispatch and gave instructions for an all-points bulletin on Cassandra Cole.

  “Just as well I’m pretty busy right now anyway. Speaking of being busy, do you guys think I can go now?” Margot asked. “I could use a shower and a drink.”

  “I could help you with both of those,” Radcliff replied.

  “No, you can’t. You’re still working. I’m not doing the paperwork by myself just so you two can waste some water showering together,” Ames told Radcliff.

  “Sorry,” Radcliff said to Margot.

  “Apology accepted. Was that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ on the going home thing?”

  “You can take off, but you know how it goes, don’t leave town.”

  “No problem,” Margot agreed as she got out of the car.

  “Still on for dinner?” Radcliff asked.

  “Might as well, since leaving town is out.”

  Ames handed her back her purse. Everything was still inside, including her gun. She thought they might take it away, but there was no evidence it’d been recently fired.

  Margot was glad to have the gun and she was even happier about getting to walk away. She could easily be detained right now. She drove home wondering where Cassie would go to hide. Her first thought would have been the ex-boyfriend. It looked like the killer thought along those same lines.

  Chapter 4

  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Radcliff said as he opened the door to his apartment and let Margot in.

  “Let me have the good news first.”

  “We have good reason to believe Cassandra Cole is still alive.”

  “That is good news. What’s the bad?”

  Radcliff handed her his phone. “The bad news is we believe she’s still among the living because she uploaded a new Coastal Crime Video.”

  “She doesn’t mention me, does she?”

  “Not exactly, but Viuda Negra got a lot of play.”

  Margot cued up the video.

  “This is Cassie Cole.” Instead of a voiceover narration over some pilfered crime scene photos, this time Cassie herself appeared on the screen. “I am speaking to you from an undisclosed location. I fear for my life as I have been threatened by what I am sure is some of the criminal element this show has worked so diligently to expose. While I’m not sure if the threat comes from a local such as Harry Lee or someone south of the border, I have heard who they’re going to send. Her name is Viuda Negra, Spanish for Black Widow. What you are about to see is footage of her stalking my home.”

  The screen filled with a woman in a green hoodie, her head down so she is watching her feet walking down the sidewalk in front of a yellow stucco building with a lot of doors. Some yellow hair pokes out of the hood as she walks.

  “Cassie’s place?” Radcliff asked.

  “Her complex, anyway,” Margot replied.

  On the video, the woman stops and knocks on a door. Afterward, she steps back and puts her hand into a fanny pack that is under her hoodie. No one answers the door, so she keeps moving.

  “Cassie’s place?”

  “Yeah.”

  The camera follows her as she reaches the end of the row of townhomes. A white Buick sedan is waiting with the engine running and the door open. The woman gets in and the Buick speeds away.

  Margot paused the video.

  “It looks like you could at least get a partial on the license plate.”

  “We got more than that, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Well, it’s clearly not my car.”

  “It’s a rental. A guy used a fake I.D. to rent it yesterday morning. You want to guess what name he used?”